The Cassie That's Gone
by riptidedauntlessgryffindor
Summary: "The Cassie that's gone is just that – gone." Twelve-year-old Cassie contemplates her life. Sixteen-year-old Cassie knows that twelve-year-old Cassie is gone, and nothing more. Takes place during the first part of book one. Enjoy!
1. Take 1

**Author's note-**

 **Hi! This is my first time writing for this fandom, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Enjoy, and please review!**

 **-SOS**

 **T** **he Cassie That's Gone**

My name is Cassiopeia, but most of the people I know don't know that, luckily. They all call me Cassie. They might think it's short for something like Cassandra or Cassidy. But other than my extremely odd name, my life is pretty boring. I'm only twelve years old, but I just wish something would _happen_ already!

Back in elementary school, I was considered the coolest girl in my class, because I could touch the tip of my tongue with my nose. Even the boys were impressed, except for Ben Parish. Ben You're-Every-Kind-of-Gorgeous Parish. He was my crush back then, and still is. But he has never noticed me, like, _ever_. I'm only twelve, though; maybe he'll ask me to the dance next year.

Now, in middle school, I tried to impress the new kid by touching the tip of my tongue to my nose during study hall, but he didn't care. And he told the teacher, so I had detention that day. It really sucked.

I go to soccer practice, but I'm not the best. I'm not the worst, either: just okay. Okay at karate too, because no one likes it when you accidentally punch them in the face. That was an awkward day, though. I got sent home early, but it was only an accident. Otherwise, I was pretty good.

I'm kind of ugly, though. Not super ugly–my hair is strawberry blonde, which is not that bad on most people's standards. I mean, my cousin's hair is a mousy brown, and nobody calls her ugly. My hair is curly, though. Every time I brush it, I have to make sure I get all the curls or they'll turn into knots, which is not good. But I have freckles, which I hate, and even though I read that book where the mom kissed the kid's freckles every night, my mom doesn't do that, and I doubt she ever would. There's just too many of them to kiss!

The night before I turned thirteen, "Unlucky Thirteen", as some people liked to say, was the first night I had the dream. It turned into a recurring nightmare. It started off simple, me camping in the woods, which I would have been fine with, but then it just got worse. I pulled out a gun, and (this is the worst part) I was forced to shoot my family in the head. But there was no person forcing me to shoot; I just did. It was like my brain was controlling my body, but something else was controlling my brain. It was horrible. I was forcing myself to kill everyone I knew.

I never told anyone about the dream, because it seemed too real to be "just a nightmare". It haunted me until I was sixteen.

Until the dream comes true, and the Cassie that's gone seems to crazy to be "just a person."

The Cassie that's gone is just that – _gone_.


	2. Rewrite

**Author's note-**

 **Thank you for reviewing, favoriting, and following my story. In response to the review below, I have decided to do a rewrite of my story:**

rhig122: I would have liked to see more build up between the 12 yr old Cassie and the 16. There was just a quick jump to the reaccuring nightmare and it ended.

The books were a quick read but Cassie is so descriptive with her thoughts in an almost ADHD sort of way. You have to give her a bit more, especially when this is her train of thought...'Time to gear up. A Luger with a full clip. A couple of grenades. M16? Why not? If you're going to play the part,look the part. I drop a couple of extra clips into my Fanny pack. Oh look, my belt even has a holster for one of those ten inch, wicked looking knives! Hi there ten inch, wicked looking knife!'

Nice first go though!

* * *

 **Rewrite:**

 _I honestly don't know why you want to go poking through my life. It's not like I'm interesting,_ I wrote. I was 12 years old, trying to do an English assignment, and sick and tired of my boring life. Looking back on it now, I'm still not sure whether I would've liked my life to stay like that. Grow up and work at an old, run-down McDonald's to earn extra spending money for college. Get married to some random dude who I didn't really care about. Learn nothing about survival skills and the world: useful stuff for when the world begins to end. I wonder why they don't teach that in school.

Speaking of school, that was not my strong suit back when we actually went to it. I mean, I was okay at academics, but socially, I sucked. Let me just tell you, middle school is not the time to be trying to impress people by touching the tip of your tongue to your nose. I was pretty stupid back then. Luckily I haven't tried to impress any aliens with that trick yet. They'd probably kill me on the spot.

Choosing between a boring life with everyone living or a more eventful life with most of the world dying was not really my decision. But was it fate? I don't know whether I believe in fate, but I guess I might. Thirteen-year-old me might have something to say about it. Dreams where you're forced to shoot your family in the head are not fun. Especially when your brain decides to control you while it's being controlled as well.

The 5th wave might've been fate. It might've been that our world was destined to end this way. I wish I could go back in time and tell the younger me that everything wasn't going to be okay. That nightmares do come true. That people make decisions to save their life that may end somebody else's. (I'm sorry, Crucifix Soldier.)

Little Cassie's watching over me. She's out there somewhere, but she's the Cassie that's gone. I'm the Cassie who's taken over: the Cassie who kills, the Cassie who still has hope. Even though the world is supposed to be ending.

If I could go back in time and tell myself one thing, it would be that everything will end sometime.

The world ends.

Friendships end.

And even you come to an end, little Cassie. One day, you'll just be the Cassie that's gone.


End file.
